Chemo Number Six

You know it's going to be a rough day when you get nauseous from chemo before its even done being administered. Whew.

My sweet and very dear friend, Tami, joined me today and oddly enough we were both so excited about today's chemo! Anytime you give two stay-at-home moms a five hour stretch of uninterrupted, kid-free time, it's sort of like Christmas came early. Ok, the only interruptions were the IV insertion (which made me sweat with discomfort), going over my blood results (which are even lower than last time so I am very susceptible to infection and if they get lowered, treatment will be delayed or my dosage lowered) or the patient behind me hiccuping relentlessly (another lovely side effect of chemo) which sounded curiously like throwing up. I would be alright with a lower dose of chemo - this stuff is kickin' my too skinny butt right now.

At any rate, I have discovered how precious time with friends is. Two months ago I knew there was a chance I was going to meet my Maker and with that comes many goodbyes to my loved ones. And my group of loved ones extends even further than my family - so now that I have a new lease on life - however long that may be- I don't want to waste any opportunities spending quality time with dear friends. So if you hear me attempting to make coffee dates or movie nights or even MAC makeovers- you'll know why. I need to celebrate this life and the people that are in it. Too bad it took cancer to help me focus on the simple, beautiful things that are friendships.

Some random side notes:

1) Mouth sores are ridiculous. They give me a whole new respect for chemo patients everywhere. When I even feel like eating (many times I don't), it hurts. Bad. I've tried salt water swishing religiously. They have invented something called a "magic mouthwash" and if its as great as it sounds, I should be running to my fridge right now and grab it. As soon as I don't feel like I'm going to throw up, I'll do just that.

2) It's still very weird to not have hair. I look like Sinead O Connor. Minus the benefit of the good voice. It's those moments every morning before I get in the shower that cause me to pause in front of the mirror - definitely not out of vanity - but out of shock of my reflection. I look sick. I have no hair and my body is very thin, pale and dry-skinned. I don't even recognize that woman staring back at me. And don't get me started on the circles under my eyes that no amount of concealer can well, conceal. Again, I need to focus on the fact that its a small price to pay for these drugs saving my life. Letting me see my kids grow up. But it still doesn't lessen the blow when I see my own reflection.

3) These last three treatments are going to be rough - I already know that. I will try my best to see the silver lining. Feel free to comment some encouragement - I will need it in the weeks ahead. February 28th is my last treatment. I will make it through to the other side of this journey.

4) I am spacey. My new anti-nausea drugs do wonders (most of the time, apparently not today) for my stomach, but they make me unable to complete thought processes. I mean like staring at the TV and thinking very s-l-o-w-l-y "Hmm. He is wearing an orange shirt" and really not even absorbing what that means. Or staring at at my pills and not really comprehending what ones I should take. So that spaciness begins at 8 p.m. tonight and lasts for five days. You've been warned.

My favorite thing my husband has said in awhile? Me: "Babe, are you wierded out that I don't have anything on my head right now?"
Colin: "I don't love you for your hair."

Be still my heart.